


Re-Wired

by invisibledeity



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: BDSM overtones, Captivity, Dominance, Electrical Play, Lightning - Freeform, M/M, Personality Issues, Psychological Torture, Submission, consensual pain play for MT!Prompto, references to medical procedures, something Ardyn didn't expect, torture for regular prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:19:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10504407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledeity/pseuds/invisibledeity
Summary: What happens when someone who's part-MT gets struck by lightning? While held captive in Gralea, Prompto discovers it's not as bad as he thinks.A fill for the FFXV Kinkmeme: https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/3016.html?thread=2056904





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the Kasabian song 'Re-Wired'.  
> For a number of lyrical reasons. It's such a fun song.
> 
>  
> 
> \--------------------------------

I wish you’d shut up, Prompto. You’re too… what’s the word… you’re too fractious. Yes. I pause to taste it on my tongue. Should thank you for giving the word up to me. I can’t remember things too well without you yet. But that’s okay. Like he keeps telling me, I’m incubating. I’m being _born_.  
      
        Fractious. Hmm. Yes, that’s you all over. Like fragments of a bitter dream clawing at the sides of my ears, begging me to listen because you want to be heard so, so badly. But I’m not having it. I need something deeper. You’re too high up the scale, your voice is too harsh. Tell me, where’s that darker pitch I crave?  
  
        No. You have no idea. Or is it because… you don’t want to think about him, do you?  
  
        I spin on my heels, look around the boxed-in high-walled room. I feel tightly coiled, a wire ready to spring to attention. I need to respond to something. I need to respond before I sink down beneath your skin again. Agitated, I watch the dark iron dessication on the walls. Tasting the shadow of blood in my mouth. I want -  
  
        - something stronger -  
  
        Then he walks in. A loud wrenching as the heavy door pulls back then he’s at the top of the stairwell. His stance is commanding, his hair is like blood, and his eyes are predator’s eyes. Like mine, like mine but stronger.  
  
         _Yes. Stronger._  
  
        I fall in line. I wait. I can feel you, Prompto. I can feel you hating the sensation of your hands clapsed tight behind you, of your back standing erect as I make you wait for him. But this isn’t about you. This is my turn.  
  
        I watch hungrily as he descends the stairs, long embellished grey coat never catching in the way of his boots. I am overcome by the sudden urge to have his boots stamp on my face. Oh, Prompto, you would _love_ that, heh. Let this man - oh, and his name escapes me - but let him hurt you. Let him.  
  
        He spreads his arms wide, and he greets me with a dark and hazy warmth that fills the room like a blanket.  
  
        ‘Such a good soldier, hm? Are you ready for what the new day brings?’ He smiles, casts his head to the side. The angle makes the sallow light glint in his golden eyes. I’m struck by how he amplifies everything around him, and I hear myself whine (you’ve worked on that pathetic sound to perfection, haven’t you?), I feel my muscles grow taut and ready to fall under him. He smirks at me, and I feel somehow blessed. He opens his mouth, all sly and carnivorous. He says, ‘I promise it won’t hurt. Much.’  
  
        With that he leaves little space for a reaction, extending an arm so fast I can barely track it. Lightning lances out, a jagged ball of sharp edges and blazing brightness.  
  
        This room, it’s a cell; there’s nowhere to hide. I don’t bother moving, although I can feel you trying to. Your reaction to his presence makes the hair on my arms bristle, but I hold you down. I stay still. I want to suffer, I want - you - to suffer.  
  
        The spell hits and something happens that shorts out my mind for a second. I realise my eyes are closed from the shock, but I am surprised by how bright it is inside me. Colour blazing blue-purple-white then shimmering down to decay in reds and firework-yellows just behind my eyelids. For a moment there’s nothing but pain lancing down from my shoulder to my spine and right to my toes. It’s hot. It itches. I am on fire and oh god I think I’m going to burst. Then the pain simmers down, and it makes way for a delicious tingling that moves down my nerves as if it’s an echo resounding through empty corridors. Every spot it touches it sets alight with a sensation I’m not used to. I don’t have words. Do you?  
  
        Fine, ignore me if you want. I know you liked it too.  
  
        I’m smiling as I shiver, as I flex my arms and shake out the last remainder of the lightning bolt’s energy from my body. My right shoulder is singed from the hit, but that smell of burnt carbon. Oh. It’s appetizing. My smile cracks wider.  
  
        ‘Tell me. How did that feel?’ His voice is low, the swell of an ocean, and I’m a small sailboat caught in the crosswinds.  
  
        A small sailboat… I don’t know why my mind makes connections to such things. I don’t even know what these words mean. They’re your words, Prompto, and they colour my mind. But I’ll take what I can.  
      
        I turn away from you, push you back down to that space far at the back of my head. Instead I choose the better option and sink into Ardyn’s gaze. Ardyn - that’s his name, it’s returned to me finally. Now there’s a name I was always meant to fall beneath.  
  
        He’s aware I’m breathing all ragged and shallow and he’s laughing as he moves closer. He towers over me - oh, it’s clearer now more than ever that he was meant to command me - and he’s searching my face. Is he looking for a different expression? Is he looking for you? Ha. Won’t find you. I continue to stare impassively. But that’s hard, since my muscles are still trembling electric and my heart is pulsing faster with every closing second.  
  
        His arm is edging round my waist, to the small of my back, but he’s not touching, hand barely hovering above the surface, so tantalising. I want to scream. He looks at the burn on my shoulder, where the bolt hit, then he looks down toward my bulging crotch and his smile cracks wide and I see canines.  
  
        ‘Oh, I think you like it, don’t you?’ He’s breathing close now. My neck is warm. I can’t bear it.  
  
        ‘Feels… good…’ I draw out the words, and I arch up into his touch, feel my back press against his fingers. His eyes light up.  
  
        ‘Yesterday I found it so hard to tell who was upfront. But today, my dear…’ He pauses, fists a handful of my hair tight. ’Today you are quite yourself. As God intended, no?’  
  
        I don’t smile, I don’t frown. I don’t show any sign of emotion. But I do tilt my head, enjoying the strain I feel against his grip. I lean in, angling my jaw, parting my lips slightly. Just enough to arouse. I look at him curiously. ‘As God sees fit.’  
  
        He yanks my hair forward and I jerk towards him. ‘Oh, you are such a delight,’ he says, and he breathes in, savouring me. You see, Prompto, you spend so much time trying to satisfy others, but really, I’m the one who does it best. Ardyn looks very satisfied, at least. I can smell his pheromones and it incites me to press closer, to expose my neck. This makes Ardyn chuckle. ‘What is it you want, pet?’  
  
        For a moment I am confused - I am still waiting for instructions and nothing has happened. He’s expecting me to come up with something. I have no idea what to do. I need orders, I need…  
  
        ‘Surprise me,’ I say.  
  
        Ardyn finds this hilarious. ‘You really are something special, aren’t you? Come, be a good little soldier and sit down here.’ He motions to the floor by the stairs. He sits on the third lowest step. Legs spread out. Elbows leaning on knees. Eyes idly watching me. Waiting.  
  
        I comply. I kneel in front of him, then rest back on my ankles. My nerves tingle when he removes my top and I raise my arms, make it easier for him. The material ends up thrown to the side carelessly. My chest is bared, all pale and cold and then he reaches out to drag a finger gently across it and I shiver, I feel _electric_.  
  
        I want that pulsing sensation again. I want the colours in my mind. But I told him to surprise me, and so I wait.  
  
        ‘I thought we ought to try something more controlled this time.’ He purrs the words out softly. The way he watches me like I’m prey gets me fired up inside. I feel like exposing my neck again. But it’s his rules. I can’t wait. I fidget, anxious to see, to learn, to know what he has planned.  
  
        He draws his fingers back from my chest. ‘How long can you stay quiet? I hear most Magitek Troopers make such a noise during the transition process.’  
  
        ‘I’m not most Magitek Troopers.’  
  
        ‘That you are not, my dear. So.’ He flourishes his fingers, prepares to conjure the elements again. ‘You had better be ready to prove yourself.’  
  
        A spark crackles around his hand, grows into a ball of white-blue, fizzes and arcs out. It’s small, but when he flicks it outwards and lets it sear across my chest I find it packs a real punch. It bites into my skin, clenches muscle tight, then lets go and the pleasure blossoms in the raw wake of the pain. My breath draws in to my lungs all sharp and fast. But it doesn’t hurt much. I don’t make a sound. I keep my eyes on him the whole time. A moment to recover, that’s all I require. Then I nod.  
  
        He smiles and does it again. This time the bolt is sharper but that only makes the eventual tingling fallout all the sweeter. My arms actually _twitch_ in response. Oh. I need -  
  
        I barely have time to think. He’s already hit me with more. This time the contact point is directly over my left nipple and I feel my mouth contort into a grimace. I twist my head, clench hands, squirm about as if trying to get away, although I refuse to move from my spot on the floor. Trying to ride out the pain. Trying to -  
  
        - my neck spasms as the electricity arcs up a pathway to my brain and then the colour and light bursts beautiful inside and I exhale in delicate shudders. But I don’t make a sound.  
  
        I breathe in and out, heaving my chest more deeply in my attempts to prevent noise escaping my throat. I have looked away from him in the unexpected lash of the lightning and now I turn my gaze back, determined to meet his eye, to stay on a level. To prove myself. To feel that delicious shiver and let him know I _want_ it.  
  
       _Oh, Prompto, you want this too, don’t you? You want to  s e r v e  h i m._  
  
        You’re not impressed. But I don’t care. Ardyn is looking at me and that’s all that matters because while I’m under his control, he’s the one utterly captivated by me. Seems all casual but I see he’s holding back something feverish and hungry behind his expression just like he’s holding back the strength of his elemancy. He hums softly. ‘Oh, you really are dedicated, aren’t you?’  
  
        Down comes the lash: more flickers running electric through my body and I start to perceive every nerve as a wire. The connection points in my system are overloading, the muscles shorting out and kicking into minute frenzied movements.  
  
        It gets too close to the edge of real, raw pain and I clench my jaw. Prompto, stop panicking -don’t ruin this for me.  
  
        But it’s hurting and it doesn’t stop and I nearly panic too. Unlike your ugly urge to run and hide, I just feel like fighting. Like hurting back.  
  
        Can’t hurt _him_ though. I meet his eyes, and I’m staring, trying to match his intensity, trying to prove myself worthy despite the blinding pain.  
  
        He tuts softly, and reaches out to wipe something from my cheek.  
  
        What? Why am I crying?  
  
        It makes me feel dirty, weak, undeserving of this pain. My fist balls up and I hit it against the floor in frustration. _Harder_. I won’t break; I know this.  
  
        He knows it too; he grins wickedly and with a perfectly-controlled twist of his hand, he increases the volume. More electricity courses through me. My body: a map of lightning strikes, the anatomy of a storm. It’s still building power - my nerves crackle painfully and strange black dots start to appear across my vision. A treacherous thought enters my mind: _when will this end?_ I bite down to stop from crying out, almost catching my tongue. When he sees this, he grips hold of me, presses his lips to mine, occupies my mouth in place of my own cries. Lips softer than I expected, despite the stubble scratching at my chin. Such an odd combination. He smells like campfires and tar and it’s just as delicious as the burnt-out ozone smell left in the wake of the lightning. He seems somehow immune to the effect of the electricity - unless he likes it too? I can’t think - the pain has me too on edge and the force of his kiss has caught me by surprise.  
  
        The energy increases and I can’t help it, I lose control. My body bucks, spasms in agony and I let out an involuntary yell. It’s completely muffled by his mouth clamped against mine. I let my eyes fly open. He’s staring at me. I don’t think he’s closed his eyes once this whole while.  
  
        When the shocks subside, he breaks contact and gazes at me like we’re lovers. I realise I’m gripping his arms tight and I must have transferred some of that pulsing energy to him in the process.  
  
        The fact he didn’t react at all to the shocks makes me admire him all the more.  
  
        ‘Very well done,’ he croons, firmly removing my hands from his sleeves. He cradles my face, all gentle touch and no bite.  
  
        ‘You cheated,’ I say. ‘You stopped my cries.’  
  
        He smirks. ‘Did I? Well, you stayed quiet the whole time. You win.’  
  
         _What do I win?_ I want him to touch me. My dick is pressing so tightly against my pants, so raw and ready from the pleasure I can hardly bear it.  
  
        ‘Please… more…’  
  
        ‘More? I’m afraid we’re out of time. You must know by now that Prompto will wake up fully soon.’  
  
        ‘Then give me more serum.’  
  
        ‘Now, now. We can’t rush the treatment. You’ve had more than enough serum for today - any more and you’ll be frothing at the mouth.’ He traces across my lips with a finger. ‘And then I won’t be able to use you. We don’t want that, do we?’  
  
        ‘We don’t want that,’ I echo.  
  
        He points me toward the MT rig and I walk over, stand in front of it with arms held out. I bet you’d want a comfortable bed but honestly, we don’t need one. I let Ardyn affix me to the cross, feeling the now-familiar tug of the restraints at my wrists and my ribs, pulling my breath tight. The new burns from the lightning press uncomfortably against metal and I wriggle against it, testing the bounds of my tolerance.  
  
        Then Ardyn strokes over my lightning-shocked body, and I forget what I’m doing.  
  
        ‘Let’s have some more fun before he returns. You have been so good.’ His words lace my nerves, a tonic for the pain. Then he summons a small burst of lightning elemancy, just enough to cover his hand with small, fibrile sparks that don’t fade. While his other hand reaches for my belt, I realise what he’s about to do.  
  
         _Oh, yes._  
  
        I can’t breathe well, strapped to this rig, but I let my breaths grow more rapid anyway, despite the burning it causes in my lungs. The anticipation is too much not to. He undoes my pants roughly, tearing at the stitching, and takes my cock in his lightning-gloved hand. And he _strokes_ , long and languorous. The sparks tingle down my shaft. It feels unbelievable, it shoots right to the core of me. Hurts, but fuck, I need it. I want more. I am making all sorts of noises now, so teased and tantalised and I don’t even care. I need him.  
  
        He shifts out the stroking for harder, tighter jerks. The caustic prickling up and down my spine combines with the deep-seated euphoria nestled in my groin. My skin’s warm. My ears are ringing.  
  
        It doesn’t take long for him to wrench an orgasm from my wracked and bruised body. I’m shivering from the base of my spine to the crown of my head and it’s so _delectable_ \- to use one of his words - that I can’t control it at all and the orgasm tears from me, painting his hand and my jeans and the floor and he’s so incredibly pleased. He wipes his hand on my thigh and tucks me back in.  
  
        ‘I hope our next session will be just as enlightening,’ he murmurs, bowing ever so slightly. His grandeur and deference is fake but I enjoy it all the same. I catch my breath once more and I grin back. I know I’ll do my best.  
  
        No more words between us. He leaves me then, and the door grinds to a halt, seals me inside. My skin cools down in the aftermath. He’s not bothered to put my shirt back on, and I know that in a few hours I’ll be shivering again.  
  
        I don’t think you’ll enjoy this at all, Prompto, when you’re finally back in control.

**Author's Note:**

> And there you go. This is the closest I'm ever going to come to writing consensual Prompto/Ardyn.


End file.
